All That I Know Is I'm Breathing Now
by MissSarahSays
Summary: Blair/Carter. In the golden light of the fifth morning with his eyes bright as day itself and locked on her face like he’s trying to memorize it, she decides she can handle living again. "Blair," he whispers. "Breathe."


_Disclaimer: I don't own "Gossip Girl."_

_A/N: I'm not really sure how I feel about this, but it just sort of happened. I was working on another piece, something entirely different, and a line came to me and wouldn't go away, and so, here we are. Title is courtesy of Ingrid Michaelson._

_Thank you for reading. – Sarah_

**All That I Know Is I'm Breathing Now.**

She's 17 the first time Blair Waldorf literally finds herself breathless courtesy of Carter Baizen.

He's been drifting in and out of her peripheral her entire life, of course, with that crooked grin that could go from utterly charming to threateningly wicked in an instant depending on the nature of his company, but she supposes she's never really taken pause to consider him much beyond that.

The battle going on the night of Cotillion between her mind (_Nate, Nate, Nate_) and her heart ( … _Chuck_ …) is enough to distract anyone from all other sensations, but because she's Blair Waldorf and not just anyone she's still coherent enough to identify the hint of fluttering that stirs somewhere below her rib cage as she finds herself suddenly lost in a sea of liquid blue when her eyes meet his and he instantly tosses off some joke at someone else's expense.

Of course, it's the less than even the briefest of moments because he's barely had time to secure the hand he rests at her waist before Nate's fist finds his temple and she finds herself with a torn Eleanor Waldorf original to deal with.

As she's busy ignoring whatever pointless chatter Jenny Humphrey is spewing in her general direction through a mouthful of pins as she stitches up the tear in her gown, she decides she's thankful their dance was interrupted.

She's not sure she could have formulated a witty response, what with the complete lack of oxygen in the moment, and that could have made for some mild awkwardness she really didn't need.

Her night spirals out of control and somehow ends in the exact fashion she's sure she's meant to have intended, and while she's busy trying to process it all, Carter disappears and she forgets about the breathless entirely.

XOXO

Junior year hurtles along at breakneck pace down a derailed track, finally imploding in epic fashion just prior to spring break and she thinks it's impossible her heart could ever ache any more poignantly.

Not even two months later she looks over the rim of her raised champagne flute to see something deeper than anyone had ever thought possible burning bright in the eyes of Chuck Bass. His bowtie matches her dress and she thinks maybe it's foolish to trust him, but then, she's always trusted him, hasn't she, and when he kisses her she feels whole again.

It lasts a week.

---

The realization that she's been abandoned again is excruciating, but the ache not nearly so dull as the first time, and so she convinces herself she can handle this, and not only that, but she can win.

Parading James/Marcus around as an ideal is a treat in itself, but once his true title is revealed it's an absolute delight if she ignores the fact that she feels absolutely nothing at all when she considers the man.

Daydreaming about turning her myriad of princess fantasies into reality occupies her thoroughly enough that she can just about force the tears from her eyes when a late summer scene in clashing shades of green flickers like a slideshow behind her lids, though, and so she shouldn't be surprised, she knows, when she finds herself mourning the relationship's demise when it ends in a (_silent, thank god – or thank her, really_) implosion of scandals and threats.

---

As she's simultaneously figuring out that what she's really mourning is the loss of her heart for the third time, the third time she's given everything of herself to a relationship only to be made the fool in the end, and staring down the barrel of all those future dreams that somehow are knocking down the door of the present, she finds the air is getting thinner and wonders if something's changed in the altitude of Manhattan.

And so she's already breathless when she unceremoniously crashes directly into Carter Baizen on 74th and Lex.

He looks like an Adonis and she's sure her hair is disheveled beneath its headband as he steadies her with both hands and his eyes lock on hers.

"Hello, beautiful," he says. "You want to talk about it?"

It's like coming up after being held under water, and she gasps, "What?"

He grins, shrugs. "Well, there's _something_, isn't there?"

"No. Yes. I mean. No. Why are you here?" _Dear_ _god, when did she become a monosyllabic idiot?_

"Well now that we've got that cleared up," his grin broadens. "You want to get a cup of coffee? Or possibly vodka?"

She thinks they've cleared nothing up but maybe that was his point, and while her mind is busy reeling her mouth clearly says yes, and a short while later repeats the word over and over and over again as it's established pretty quickly that "a cup of coffee or possibly vodka" has a pretty loose translation for both of them.

She leaves him tangled in 1000-thread count sheets with one long look back as the faintest of morning light falls across his shoulders and he disappears again from the island that is her whole world like he was never there at all.

This time he's not so easily forgotten and she occasionally finds herself breathless when she inexplicably and at the most random of intervals recalls the way he kissed her with his eyes open, bright and glowing with something she figures she shouldn't be foolish enough to read into.

XOXO

"Hello, beautiful."

It's been six months and this time there's absolutely nothing disheveled about her flawless appearance, pristinely packaged in silk and lace and black. She's feeling like little more than a shell of a person now, but her breathing is steady and regular as she regards him and his hand on her thigh and she knows in an instant she'll follow him anywhere in this moment.

The moment turns into a week's worth of moments, and she persistently ignores the way something seems to be filling in the void she was sure had consumed her, but she can't keep from smiling against his lips when he spontaneously kisses her at the end of every block in Nolita or from clinging to his hand like she's drowning instead of responding when he asks if there's something on her mind she wants to talk about.

He makes her watch exactly five sunrises as if to prove to her that the world is still turning so she'd better keep up or risk floating off into space. She thinks mere days before she'd have picked Option: Floating, but in the golden light of the fifth morning with his eyes bright as day itself and locked on her face like he's trying to memorize it, she decides she can handle living again.

"So what are you doing here, anyway?" She demands finally, and he shrugs.

She feels all the breath leave her body as he suddenly leans down to kiss her near her eyes.

"This," he replies, and she stares and stares and somehow manages to draw in enough of a gasp to release it in a flood of giggles as he grabs her and dips her in a grandiose old Hollywood style kiss.

When he pulls his usual disappearing act 24 hours later she's certain it was for the best anyway, because that something behind his clear eyes was beginning to persist, and besides, now that she's back to living, she's got a lot to get in order.

This time, though, she can't forget him at all.

XOXO

She's 18 and her life is nothing it was ever meant to be but Chuck Bass finally told her he loved her approximately one thousand times in a row the week after graduation and hasn't missed a day since.

He's CEO of Bass Industries and his suspenders match her blouse and they fight like it's to the death and they fuck like it's the end of the world, but when Serena tumbles back into town just before classes begin with the usual unintentional fanfare and the unexpected addition of daddy drama, her hand is clasped firmly in Carter's and Blair finds the wind knocked out of her.

Serena throws out chatter about wild pasts and understanding and always coming back to her, for her, and Blair nods and smiles and demands to know if she's missed some recent developments in the earth's tectonic plates or whatever the hell she wasn't listening to in junior high or her Earth History lectures of late because there is something going on in Manhattan and the air is far too thin.

Her best friend just blinks at her and Blair burns her tongue on her Americano and silently curses herself for thinking maybe there could be anything in the way Carter always seemed to come back for _her_ when her best friend is Serena Van der Woodsen.

She puts significant effort into forcing herself not to think of him in any terms aside from as her best friend's boyfriend.

XOXO

It's all falling apart by Christmas, and she thinks her life can't possibly be falling apart at 19, until she remembers it pretty much has been annually since 16, so.

Chuck still tells her he loves her every day and he holds her hand and he takes her to the movies when he can get away from the office and she doesn't understand why her chest feels hollow when her heart is so full for this boy.

---

She puts her best face forward, though, and impresses even herself when she manages to fool everyone well enough that she eventually, due to lack of instigation by anyone with a clearer grip on … thinking … accidentally blurts out some incoherent demand about voids and life and what if she's been looking at everything all wrong to _Nate_, of all people, while they're unintentionally having a contest to see who can drink the most Veuve Clicquot at a holiday party hosted by Lily Van der Woodsen and none other than Rufus Humphrey.

It's an interesting event, for sure, and she's standing ramrod straight in a vintage black Chanel and Chuck texted to say he'd be late and Nate's not sure who he's dating this week and there are Humphreys and other Brooklyners scattered about and then Nate looks at her like he knows something and professes something about happiness not being on the menu before finishing his champagne and looking around for a server.

She thinks he can't possibly have come up with that on his own, but she hates the thought _wherever_ it came from and so she scowls and turns on a heel only to come face to face with a tipsy, irritable and beautiful as always Serena, in a navy blue Valentino with golden ivy spun through her hair.

"Blair!" she cries, the distress in her tone signifying impending apocalypse at the very least. "Here, can you … occupy … this." She waves a vague hand to her right and totters off in the same direction as Nate with what one can assume is the same destination, and Blair finds herself face to face with Carter.

"Hey," he grins at her, and her heart falls when she realizes she's waiting for him to call her beautiful and he doesn't. After a beat she forces a returning smile but he's already studying her.

"You want to talk about it?"

_What the hell_, she thinks. Too bad she's returned to the verbally-challenged version of herself and so despite feeling like yes, yes she would absolutely like to talk about it, she has no idea how.

"It's nothing."

He cocks an eyebrow. "No?"

"Fine, it's everything. And nothing. Or everything _is_ nothing, maybe that's it."

He looks concerned and steps closer, and she's sure that can't be hurt that flashes briefly across his blue eyes when she instinctively steps back simply because everything in her is screaming at her to lunge forward.

"Nothing feels _real_ anymore," she whispers, sweeping an arm meant to indicate the whole world, and the widening of his eyes is nearly imperceptible but she catches it.

---

Before she knows what's happening his hand is at her lower back, and then they're in the elevator and he's pressing L and then he's sighing and leaning against the wall, running a hand through his perfect hair and inexplicably making it more perfect by ruining it.

"We're just about done," he regards her steadily, with something like sadness, something like resignation, something even like amusement all vying for prominence in his eyes.

"You and me?" she replies, dumbly, and feels the heat spread across her cheeks and he laughs softly and trains his gaze on the ceiling when he responds.

"Me and Serena."

_Oh_. "But," she considers her words carefully, and what they're supposed to be. "You're perfect together. You maybe love her. You've always come back for her." A pause. "You … you and S … you're the same. It makes sense."

He's watching her. "I don't think perfect exists, and I'm not sure it should," he pauses, like he's considering his words as well. "And maybe I do. Maybe I always will. It doesn't mean …" he doesn't finish, and takes a step toward her.

She doesn't step back this time.

"And maybe that's the problem," he finishes, and she tries to reply but feels strangled, suddenly, and so she asks him why with her eyes and he tells her: "We're the same, too much the same. It's all fire," he takes another step. "And when it's all fire … it just consumes. Until there's nothing left, and then it consumes itself. Until it burns out."

He's right in front of her now and she thinks for sure her heart has stopped and she's lost entirely who he's referring to now, and maybe it's him and Serena and maybe it's her and Chuck but right here it's her and him and she tries to speak again but now his face is coming toward hers, his breath at her ear –

"Blair," he whispers. "_Breathe._"

She gasps like she's been held underwater.

---

He leads her by the hand somewhere into the 80's, farther and farther East until the river is just across the street, and they stop in front of a pre-war walkup and she's shivering despite her coat but she doesn't even ask why they're here, she just walks through the door when he opens it.

It's a walkup and he trails her all five flights as she takes the steps gingerly in her 4-inch Manolos and then he unlocks the door to the roof.

She immediately turns to gaze out over the river, but he gently tugs at her hand and leads her to the other side so that they're facing directly into the surrounding buildings, all residential and many of them taller than the five stories they're standing atop.

He smiles when she looks at him with a combination of skepticism and curiosity, and he tilts her chin back toward the windows.

"Look," he insists.

"We're peeping toms? Gross."

He laughs. "No. Don't _spy_, just _look_. The Christmas trees. Candles. The lights."

She looks. "There are so many," she muses, and he nods beside her.

"Millions," he agrees. "Everywhere. And we're just here. There's plenty of 'real' left, Blair. You just have to look."

"I forget to look," she admits, and he looks startled. "I think sometimes I don't want to look, because I only see what I want to. Even when it's not there."

A beat, and then his arm gently around her shoulders. She looks up at him and he's trained on the lights.

"What do you see, Carter?"

He meets her eyes.

"You look beautiful tonight," he tells her. "Did I forget to mention that earlier?"

She takes time to look at things, and wonders if it's too much to say that every time she sees something new she thinks of him.

XOXO

She clings but only as long as they both can stand it, and she's 20 when the fire has nothing left to consume and burns itself out.

She's not sure she'll ever love another person as fiercely as she loved Chuck Bass, and she says as much by way of greeting to Carter when she runs into him amidst the throng of tourists and sentimental New Yorkers gazing at the tree in Rockefeller Center.

It's Christmas again and she's been looking at all the lights.

Carter full-on gapes at her in a truly un-Baizen-like fashion at this blunt and unsolicited admission, and before he can recover himself she goes on:

"But I also don't think," she meets his gaze (blindsided, appalled, slightly frantic, utterly dumbfounded) locking her eyes on his until he relaxes. "That I've ever been so alive as when I'm with you."

His eyes are wide but an amused smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he turns his head to look at the tree and lets out a low whistle.

"Well," he replies, finally. "I'm not quite sure what I should say to that."

She raises a hand to his cheek, tilts his face back to hers.

"I wouldn't mind if you started with 'Hello, beautiful,'" she suggests, before kissing him like she's sure she could love him as fiercely as they both need.

(Carter Baizen is 24 the first time he literally finds himself breathless courtesy of Blair Waldorf.)


End file.
